


with arms around me

by allegrolines



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Nerds in Love, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:38:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8808115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allegrolines/pseuds/allegrolines
Summary: A tiny collection of idol!verse ficlets based on one word prompts. All drabbles are rated T except for one (see chapter summaries for tags.)





	1. passion

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Mike Perry's “Ocean.”
> 
> (I planned to keep all the ficlets between 500-1k words. That obviously didn't happen.)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pre-slash, pre-debut, first meetings, all my tiny!wooya feelings.

“I’m glad you two have previous experience dancing,” Kim Dongmin-seonsaengnim tells Dongwoo and Howon on their first day before addressing the rest of the room. “We’re going to start again, from the beginning,” he announces to the group, raising his voice. “And remember not to slouch this time, Nam Woohyun-ssi.” He turns back to them. “You think you can follow the steps?”

They exchange a look—Dongwoo is fidgeting, looking eager to start.

“We’ll try our best,” Howon answers for both.

 

\---

 

“What do you think of our choreo?” one of the older boys asks Howon later, blunt and unprompted.

All the others go quiet. Howon’s skin prickles, too aware of everyone’s focus shifting from sore legs and blistered feet to him—all of them waiting for the new boy’s reply. He wishes he could stay quiet, but that would only make things worse in the long run. Now that he’s also a trainee, Howon wants to make the most of it. He clears his throat.

“It’s—” he starts.

“Who’s taken my towel?” someone cuts in.

The first guy frowns, looking away from Howon. “It’s where you left it, Namu,” he says.

“It’s not where I left it,” the other insists. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“Actually,” another voice pipes in, “I think I got it mixed up with mine.”

“Can I use yours, then?”

“It’s already dirty. Sorry.”

“You can use mine,” Howon says. Everybody stares him again. “I mean—” he stammers, feeling his face grow hot. “I brought a spare. Just in case. You can use it.”

“You don’t mind?” the boy asks, walking up to Howon with a tentative smile.

Howon remembers him—he was standing at one end of the line, and while his sense of rhythm was decent enough, his movements were clumsy and choppy. The guy’s hair is long and shaggy, matted with sweat, but when he shakes it off his face his eyes are bright and clear. Howon grins back at him.

“It’s fine, take it. I’m Hoya,” he says, and then, “Lee Howon.”

“Nam Woohyun,” he answers. “Thanks for this.” He takes Howon’s towel and wipes the back of his neck, the round curve of his cheeks. “I’ll give it back after laundry day. We’re all gonna be living together, so.”

“If you’re thinking of keeping it, remember I’ll know where you sleep.”

It isn’t a funny joke, and he regrets it as soon as the last word slips past his lips, but Woohyun chuckles anyway. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.

Dongmin-seonsaengnim claps, calling them to attention. “I said ‘ten minute break’, kids,” he says. “You’re here to dance, not talk. C’mon.” They all rush back to their previous formation. “I’m going to change the second half of the routine, so _concentrate_. Jang Dongwoo-sii, Hoya-ssi—Come to the front.”

The music starts again. Howon feels the bass deep in his chest, making him fall in sync with the beat right away, as if he were a string vibrating by sympathetic resonance. He checks his stance, breathes in, and _moves_.

 

\---

 

Two trainees drop out a week after Howon joins the company. They aren’t the only ones to quit—about half of them trickle away during the next months, though others fill in the empty spots. Several go back home, back to their families and their high school classmates; a few, more impatient, decide to try their luck somewhere else, hoping for a faster debut.

The harsh, competitive environment isn’t great for making new friends; most of the time, they are all too exhausted and sleep deprived to do little else but pass out when they get back to the dorm. Still, there’s something about going through vocal lessons together at 1 am that unavoidably brings some of them closer—solidarity, or some kind of twisted, shared version of Stockholm syndrome.

Howon can’t help but compare his current situation to how it was back in Busan. Everybody there wanted to make it as badly as anyone he’s met in Seoul, yet he always felt like they were working towards the same goal, like no one was supposed to fall behind. Here, Howon gets along with the others, but the mood is far from the sort of teamwork he used to have; it’s every man on his own, at least for the most part—there’s Dongwoo, who started on the same day as him and might be impossible to dislike. ( _Hoya-sii_ , he says, before reciting a proverb Howon has never heard before; _Nam-goon_ , he calls Woohyun, feeding him bites of bread like they’ve known each other for years.)

There’s Woohyun, too.

Woohyun, who keeps seeking out Howon’s company after their first meeting, who Howon gets to know little by little. Woohyun is unable to keep whatever he’s feeling from showing up on his face, unless he’s plotting a prank or lying to cover up for someone else. He can be loud and chatty, but he’s quiet when the two of them are alone, like he wants to shelter those moments from all the noise and chaos that normally surround them. Above all, Woohyun’s easy to talk to—he has the ability to sidestep potential sore topics, steering the conversation away from them before Howon can even begin to feel uncomfortable.

They sit together late at night, huddled up under the same blanket. “Hoya-ssi,” Woohyun says, leaning his head on Howon’s shoulder. “Can you tell me a story?”

Howon tells him about performing in the middle of the street in December, his breath clouding up the air. He tells Woohyun about Haeundae, the waves crashing upon the shore, the seagulls soaring high over his head. He speaks until Woohyun falls asleep—until his mouth dries out and his heart is beating so fast it makes his chest ache.

 

\---

 

“Have you considered rapping?”

Tablo-hyung— _You don’t have to call me sunbaenim_ , he said after Howon introduced himself, wincing like the honorific somehow pained him—puts his notebook away, keeping his eyes down. Howon freezes, rooted on the chair. Panic and disappointment creep up his throat, tasting like acid. _What am I going to do now?_ he thinks. “I came here to become a singer,” he answers, proud of the way his voice doesn’t waver.

“Of course,” Tablo-hyung says. “But you like hip hop, right? You listed many hip hop artists as your role models during your audition. And you have a strong image. You could easily fit into that concept.”

“I do like hip hop. But—it’s not the only genre I like. I like RnB, too, and—” Howon trails off, trying to come up with something else to add. “I’m not a rapper, hyung.”

“You aren’t,” Tablo-hyung agrees. “But you could learn how to rap.”

Howon’s hands shake; he closes them into fists.

“Look.” Tablo-hyung sighs. “You also mentioned you were interested in learning how to produce your own music, didn’t you?”

“Yes, hyung.”

“Then you _should_ consider rapping,” he says. “That would give you the chance to write lyrics, for a start.” He smiles awkwardly, standing up and patting Howon’s back as he leaves the room. “Mithra and I’d supervise your progress. Think about it.”

“I will,” Howon replies. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Don’t thank me.” There’s a note of bitterness in there, but Howon’s ears are buzzing too loudly for him to hear it. “I’ll see you soon, Howon-ah.”

 

\---

 

It never occurs to Howon not to go to their next practice—what else is he meant to do but keep working towards his dream, even if it feels like the ground itself has been pulled out from under his feet? 

He wanders downstairs, looking for an empty cubicle he can use to warm up. A very familiar melody makes him stop on his way to the basement floor; it’s the song they’ve been dancing to for the last week, trying out different footwork combinations to match its fast pace. The door of the room is ajar. Howon peers inside, and does a double take.

It’s hardly a secret that Woohyun is one of the weakest dancers, and Howon knows he practices on his own to catch up with the rest. It looks like he’s been at it for a while now, keeping track of his form in the narrow mirror hanging from one corner. Music plays from a laptop set in front of him—Woohyun must have asked Dongmin-seonsaengnim for the review video of one of their recent rehearsals. That’s not what takes Howon by surprise, but the fact that the clip Woohyun is using as reference focuses on a single person.

Woohyun misses his next step and stumbles, biting down a curse. The song goes on without him.

“Your shouldn’t bend your knees on the offbeat,” Howon says, cutting through the noise. He closes the door behind him. “And you’re closing your arms too much.”

“I thought I’d fixed that already.” Woohyun wipes the sweat off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. His bangs are pinned back with a pair of hairclips. “Anything else?” he asks.

“I just got here,” Howon replies. “But, Woohyun-ssi—”

“What?”

Howon points at the computer screen. “That’s me.”

Woohyun stares at him, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m not good enough,” he blurts out, setting his jaw and straightening up. He sounds almost defiant, as if daring Howon to tell him he’s wrong. “I came here to sing,” he adds. “That’s what I know how to do. I can improve as a singer, but if I’m going to debut in an idol group, I have to do _more_.”

A shiver runs down Howon’s spine. The rawness in Woohyun’s voice hits too close to home. Everything is on his face, as clear as a pool of calm, shallow water—stubbornness and fear, uncertainty and conviction. “I know,” Howon tells him; _I came here to sing_ isn’t that different from _I came here to become a singer_ , after all.

“The way you dance—” Woohyun’s cheeks, already flushed, turn a darker shade of red. The video ends, and the room falls quiet. “I really want to get better.”

“You’re working hard,” Howon says. “You will. We will.”

Woohyun’s shoulders drop. “What time is it?” he asks, grabbing his bottle. “Didn’t you have a meeting or something?”

“Tablo-hyung let me go a little earlier today.”

“Can you help me run through the new steps once?”

“Yeah.” Howon moves to stand at Woohyun’s right, leaving enough space between so they won’t bump into each other. He starts stretching his arms. “We could practice together sometime, if you want?”

“I’d like that.” Woohyun beams at him.

“Good,” Howon says. “From the beginning?”

He nods. “From the beginning.”

It will take Howon years to achieve everything that he wants; there will be detours, but he knows he’ll learn from them, too. For now, Woohyun taps play, and they dance.


	2. ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gen, pre-debut, yamo era, dongwoo pov, character centric.

The show crew takes them to the beach to film a segment there, squeezing all seven of them plus Jiae in one van. _You have to be more versatile_ , someone says, _You need to learn how to be approachable_. Dongwoo doesn’t really understand how trudging through wet sand will make them look versatile or approachable, but he likes the idea of going on a trip, as if they were a real family. He likes how everybody looks brighter, too—they joke and talk during the whole drive and afterwards, until the director has to ask them to keep it down and pay attention. Woohyun tries to stifle his chuckles into his hand, ducking behind Howon so he doesn’t get caught, but soon the whole group is laughing again.

It’s a good start of the day, as far as Dongwoo is concerned.

There’s so much to film that he ends up forgetting parts of the script. Sometimes it’s hard to remember everything they are supposed to say, on top of everything they are supposed to be. Dongwoo picks off seaweed from Sungjong’s hair and chases gulls along the shore with Sungyeol, not caring about the water soaking his sneakers and the hem of his pants. Howon lifts Jiae and swirls her around, making her shriek. They shoot their own music video. They dance, kicking sand everywhere. The temperature drops after the sun sets; they end up going back to the van to sleep there, their teeth shattering in the dark. Dongwoo doesn’t mind it that much—the sky clears up with the cold, and he can see the stars from his spot by the window. He looks up at the trails of stardust hanging over them, impossibly bright now that they are far away from the orange glow of the streetlights in Seoul.

They wake up hours later, only to find that the tide has washed the tent away.

It’s a setup, but no one knows at the time. Dongwoo holds onto Woohyun’s arm, while Sunggyu tries to act as if he weren’t as worried and scared as the rest of them. Myungsoo, Sungjong and Jiae cling to each other, pale and shivery. The cameras keep rolling, recording everything.

It ends as abruptly as it started—one word from the director and the staff starts putting the equipment away. _We got enough footage_ , they say, bringing back the tent and everything that was in it. _You worked hard_ , they say, even though all eight of them are reeling from the sudden mood shift, trying to wrap their heads around what’s happened, _You did well_. Dongwoo’s jacket gets lost in the chaos; he runs his fingers over the rough canvas of his bag, happy to have its weight back, familiar and reassuring. Someone drops a coat over his shoulders—Sunggyu, Dongwoo discovers when he turns around.

“Your eyebrows look like sad parentheses,” he says.

Sunggyu’s face goes from concerned to exasperated. “What are you even talking about?” 

“Parentheses?” If he had enough time, Dongwoo would tell Sunggyu all about the way his features sometimes resemble punctuation marks. “Is it okay?” he asks instead. “Your coat?” It smells a little like the cheap soap they have at the dorm, and a lot like salt.

“It’s not that cold,” Sunggyu replies gruffly.

“Thank you, hyung.” He means to say more, but Sunggyu walks away to talk to someone else.

Dongwoo sits down while the crew comes and goes around him, drawing words in the sand and erasing them when he runs out of space. He finds a tiny seashell with jagged edges, a flat pebble that fits perfectly into his palm, a piece of green glass, smoothed out by the sea. He picks them up and places them in the outer pocket of his backpack, making sure they won’t end up squashed later.

A shadow falls over his feet. “What do you want those for, Dongwoo-yah?” Woohyun’s voice asks.

“They are pretty,” he replies, without raising his head—there’s a feather, too, soft gray mottled with brown. There’s no reason for him to keep it, or the other things, except that he likes them. “Right, Nam-goon?”

“Uh-huh.” Woohyun moves closer, sidestepping the patch of ground Dongwoo is combing between his fingertips. “Tablo-hyung called again. I just talked with him.”

“What did he say?” Dongwoo asks, distracted

“I’m too old for this.”

Dongwoo blinks up at him. “You’re a few months younger than me.”

Woohyun smiles warmly. “Not me—That’s the first thing Tablo-hyung said,” he explains. “He was tired. He also told me we’ll go back to Seoul in half an hour.”

“Do you think we’ll come here again?”

“I don’t know.” Dongwoo sees Woohyun take a long, deep breath, parting his lips like he’s trying to taste the air. “I missed the beach, so—Hopefully. C’mon,” he adds, extending his arm, “time to stand up and get ready to leave.”

“I’d like to come back,” Dongwoo says, taking his hand and rising up, following him towards the rest of the group.

“Maybe we’ll get to visit other places, too,” Woohyun says. “Other seas”

“Or the same sea, but from the opposite side.”

Woohyun slows down. “The same sea from the opposite side,” he repeats softly. “That almost sounds like a song, Dongwoo-yah. You should write it down—or make a note on your phone so you don’t forget it.”

“We forget things sometimes,” Dongwoo tells him. “It’s just what humans do.”

“I guess, but—” Woohyun’s voice ebbs away. He stares at the sea, shimmering under the sun, the water inching up as the tide rises again. He looks at Jiae and the others, too. Howon spots them and waves, grinning from ear to ear. Woohyun waves back. “I don’t want to forget how it was before we debuted,” he finishes.

It sounds like he means much more than what he’s saying. Dongwoo pictures something big and complicated lurking underneath his words, like a fish swimming away in the depths of the ocean. “Then we’ll remember,” he says. “No matter what happens from now on. No matter how far we get. We’ll remember.”

Woohyun’s grip around his hand tightens briefly. “Let’s go home, Dongwoo-yah.”


	3. soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pre-debut, first kiss.

Howon finds Woohyun on the rooftop, sitting with his chin on his knees, curled up around himself. The sun is just starting to rise past the early morning fog, and the sky is a soft yellow, pale and watery.

“Are you hiding, hyung?” he says.

Woohyun squints up at Howon with bloodshot eyes. “Is it time to go back?” he asks.

“We still have five minutes left,” Howon replies.

“Hmm.” Woohyun turns towards the sky again, tipping his head back so the sunshine falls on his face. They have been at the company for almost twenty hours now, practicing with barely any breaks, only stopping from time to time to eat, drink, and catnap on the the hardwood floor of the dance room. Woohyun sighs. “Can you imagine how everything will be in a month?”

Howon crouches by his side. “Not really,” he says. Somehow, it was easier to think about debuting one year ago—or two, even. Now that it’s actually about to happen he doesn’t know what to expect. “We’ll be busy,” he adds, wincing at himself right away—of all the possible things to say, _We’ll be busy_ seems too small and inane. It’s not as if they aren’t busy already, Howon thinks, or as if Woohyun doesn’t know that. He wishes he were better at shaping his thoughts into words.

“We will,” Woohyun agrees quietly. “I’ve—We’ve spent a long time getting ready for this.”

“I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough,” Howon says, looking down at his own scuffed sneakers.

Woohyun leans against him. His head ends up resting on Howon’s arm. “Then we’ll work harder.” 

The city awakens around them—the low rumble of traffic mingles with the whisper of the wind between the buildings and the rattle of trains, even further away. Woohyun’s warmth seeps through Howon’s thin t-shirt. He’s wearing a brace on his ankle, and its bright blue peeks from underneath the cuff of his sweatpants. Howon squeezes his wrist.

“I’m not, by the way,” Woohyun says all of a sudden. “Hiding, I mean.”

“Needed some air?”

“Something like that.” It’s not really a reply, but Howon knows it’s probably all he’ll get out of Woohyun, at least for now. “We should go back, before Sunggyu-hyung sends our maknae after us.”

“Three minutes left,” Howon whispers into his hair.

“Liar,” Woohyun chuckles. “You didn’t even check the time.”

“I was counting seconds,” Howon says. “You know. In my head.”

“Of course you were.” Woohyun shifts to stare up at him. “Are you still counting, Hoya-ssi?”

“One hundred forty-eight,” Howon deadpans.

Woohyun laughs for longer than Howon has heard in awhile, loud and graceless, his whole face scrunched up. For all that he has kept smiling, even when all of them are too tired to even speak, he hasn’t sounded so happy and carefree in a long time. He shakes, slumped against Howon’s side, giggling like he can’t stop himself. A flock of birds flies over them, chirping away.

When Howon looks down Woohyun is still turned towards him, caught mid-chuckle. Howon feels a tug of heat in his belly. It’s not the first time they’ve shared space, but it’s never been quite like this. Woohyun’s face is very close to his—long hair and round cheeks, pointy nose and full lips. His eyes widen. His pulse jumps under Howon’s fingers, still wrapped around his wrist.

Their mouths brush once, break apart, then come together a second time. It’s tentative and a little clumsy. Woohyun tilts his chin up, but doesn’t push, and neither does Howon. There’s nothing but the gentlest pressure, the lightest of touches. They kiss slowly, softly—that’s the only thing Howon is able to register, how soft Woohyun’s mouth is. Later, he won’t even be able to recall who leaned in first.

They pull away after a moment. Woohyun is flushed pink; Howon’s neck feels hot.

“Two hundred twenty-three,” Woohyun murmurs into the space between them.

“What?” Howon asks in a daze.

Woohyun smiles. “Nothing.” He pushes himself up, dusting his pants as he stands. “Come on, Howon-ah,” he says. “We really need to go.”

Howon doesn’t reply. He isn’t holding onto Woohyun anymore, though a part of him wishes he were. He gets up too and follows Woohyun to the staircase, unsure of how much—or how little—distance he should leave between them. The silence lasts for two flights of stairs, then Woohyun stops in the landing and turns to face him.

“There’s no time now, but—” He’s trying to keep a neutral expression, but looks unsure underneath it, almost scared. “Later?”

“Later? _Oh_ —I mean. Yes.” Howon nods. “Later.”

He’s still standing two steps higher than Woohyun—not that it stops Woohyun from rising on his tiptoes and kissing Howon on the cheek. “Thanks for coming to get me,” he says

Howon’s heart skips a beat. “Anytime,” he replies.


	4. dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set during boaf; comfort, family feels.

The lights go off while Woohyun is walking down the stairs. He stumbles, just managing to catch himself against the wall before falling. The rough grain of the concrete scrapes his palms. Woohyun can’t see anything, neither ahead of him nor behind. He tries to keep moving forward, one step at a time. The cold from the floor seeps into his feet, creeps up his legs, settles under his skin, chilling him to the bone. The silence presses against his ears. He picks up the pace, staggering when the ground shakes—

“Woohyun-ah.”

Woohyun gasps, opening his eyes.

It’s still dark here, but it’s not the pitch black, suffocating emptiness from before. Woohyun can just make out an angle overhead—the wall of his room, meeting the ceiling—and the outline of the bed’s wooden frame. He stays still for a moment, taking deep, slow breaths to fight down the feeling of disorientation. Someone touches his arm and gives him a gentle shake.

“Woohyunie?” 

The question hangs in the air. Woohyun turns around with a rustle of fabric.

“Howon-ah?”

Howon is bent over the side of the bunk. “You’re awake,” he says. It’s difficult to read the expression on his face with the lights off, but the relief in his voice is obvious. “I know it’s late.” Woohyun hears remorse, too—Howon _hates_ bothering people without a good reason. “Could you—? Could you come with me? Please?”

“What’s wrong?” Woohyun pushes himself up and crawls towards the ladder without waiting for an answer; Howon moves back to make room for him.

“They’re crying,” he says.

Woohyun’s feet touch the tiles. He recoils a little at the cold, looking around for his slippers. On the lower bunk, Sunggyu grumbles something indistinct. “They?” Woohyun asks in a murmur.

Howon takes his hand and guides him out of the bedroom. “The puppies,” he replies.

Three pair of bright eyes greet them from the far end of the living room. Coco rises to his hind legs, wagging his tail; Nurung and Dubu yip at them, running in circles around the enclosed space Dongwoo and Sungyeol set for them earlier. Their nails click as they move, their little bodies thrumming with excitement. Woohyun can’t hold back a smile.

“Hi, babies,” he singsongs, kneeling by the makeshift fence. The dogs stretch forward, sniffing loudly, trying to reach his hands. “Hey, _hi_. I’m glad to see you, too.”

“They aren’t hurt, right?” Howon says, joining him on the floor. “Everything’s alright?”

“They seem fine—here, take her,” he tells Howon, lifting Dubu in his arms and handing her over to him. Once she’s safely settled in Howon’s lap, Woohyun takes Nurung and Coco, chuckling when they nose and lick at any bit of skin they can reach. “A little too eager to play, considering what time it is, but fine.”

“That’s good,” Howon breathes. Woohyun feels him physically deflate. Dubu whines, a high, mournful thing; they both shush her, Howon’s fingers sinking into the fur behind her ears. “I was—”

“Worried. I know.”

“We haven’t been around that much lately,” Howon says. “Sorry.” Woohyun looks at him, surprised, but Howon is still focused on Dubu. “I got you out of bed for nothing.”

“This isn’t nothing,” Woohyun tells him. Nurung sighs, nuzzling under his shirt; Coco has already fallen asleep between his legs. “Wasn’t there supposed to be a storm tonight?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe that’s why you heard them crying,” Woohyun reasons. “Maybe they got scared. Were you and your brothers scared, baby?” he asks, reaching over and scratching Dubu’s chest. She writhes, chasing his hand and trying to gnaw on it. “Hopefully they didn’t wake up anyone else.”

“They weren’t crying that much, I guess,” Howon mutters. Woohyun doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s blushing.

“Howon-ah.” He swallows, a question hovering on the tip of his tongue. “Are you okay?”

Howon raises his head. “What—?”

“You were pretty quiet, earlier today,” Woohyun explains. “Or yesterday, technically. I was just—”

“Worried?” Howon says, with the tiniest grin.

Woohyun shrugs as best as he can with two small dogs lying on him. “I wasn’t worried because you were quiet,” he says. “I know you’re quiet. But—you didn’t look too happy.”

Howon looks down again. “My mom called,” he replies after a while, petting Dubu’s belly.

“Yesterday?”

“No, a few days ago,” he says. “She asked me if I wanted to spend my next birthday with them.”

_Ah_ , Woohyun thinks. “Howonie, you don’t—”

“I said no,” Howon cuts in. He sounds wistful, despite speaking firmly. “I just—I want to see her, but. I can’t go. Not yet. Not when things’re still—” He falters. “Not yet,” he repeats.

Woohyun’s nails bite into his own thighs. He knows enough about Howon’s family to have an idea of what’s going on in Howon’s head, and to be aware that it’s not his place to say or do anything Howon doesn’t ask him for, no matter how hard it is to hold back at times like this. He leans against Howon’s side.

All three puppies are sleeping, as still and peaceful now as they were antsy before. Woohyun feels his eyes start to drop. “Hey,” he says, “can I kiss you?”

Howon turns his head instead of replying, seeking Woohyun’s mouth with his. He licks over Woohyun’s bottom lip and then bites on it, sharp teeth against soft skin. Woohyun smiles into the kiss. He’s starting to press closer when something wet touches his chin, over and over again.

“What the—” he splutters, pulling back.

Coco looks up at them, his tongue lolling out.

“Maybe kissing in front of the children wasn’t the best idea,” Howon laughs.

“Apparently not,” Woohyun replies. Of course, now that he has their full attention Coco curls up in a ball and goes back to sleep. “Look at this shameless guy.”

“They’ve grown so much.”

“They have.” Woohyun runs his hand over Nurung’s head. “I’m gonna miss them.”

Howon hums. “D’you want to stay here with them tonight? I can go grab some blankets and stuff.”

“Yes,” Woohyun says. “Please.”

“I’ll do that, then.” Howon wraps an arm around his shoulders and stays where he is, smelling faintly like fabric softener and lemon shampoo. “In just a minute.”


	5. mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rated explicit; underwear kink, partially clothed (oral) sex.

It starts while they are getting fitted for their new stage outfits in a lull between rehearsals. Howon stands as still as he can as one of the stylists adjusts the fit of his jacket, the white, lacy fabric of it draping over his shoulders and arms. He’s distracted, still trying to get used to seeing light hair every time he looks in the mirror, and that’s why it takes him a while to notice that Woohyun is staring at him. His smile when Howon catches him looking is just the same as always, but his eyes follow the lines of Howon’s body, the glimpses of tanned skin just visible underneath the lace. It’s a purposeful gaze, heavy and heated like a caress. Howon keeps the memory of it for himself afterwards, carries it around like a tiny seed—a seed that sprouts and grows roots as the days go by in a flurry of comeback preparations, eventually blooming into the fully formed idea that has ended up taking him right to this moment, dressed in nothing but gossamer-thin silk and turned on beyond words.

“<>Oh>.” Woohyun inhales, sharp and loud. “You’ve been wearing these the whole day?” He’s at Howon’s feet, kneeling in front of him with his hands braced on Howon’s thighs. The button of Howon’s jeans is undone, the zipper pulled halfway down so his underwear is already visible, shimmering under the light when Howon shifts his weight. “They’re new, right?” Woohyun keeps saying. He leans in, so close that his breath ghosts over Howon’s groin, a sudden puff of warmth. “They smell like you, though.”

Woohyun’s voice is low, awed and full of wonder. Howon wants to ask him to stop talking—and wants to ask him to never stop, too. He shudders, caught in the push and pull of both urges. The wall is cold against his bare back, but he couldn’t care less. Woohyun finishes undressing him, tugging the pants down and off his legs, pressing a light kiss on his hipbone over the red lace of the shorts he’s wearing. They are fairly modest as far as lingerie goes, but the novelty makes Howon feel both exposed and daring, in a way that’s much sharper and better than he could have ever anticipated.

“They look so good on you,” Woohyun whispers, lowering his face and mouthing Howon’s cock slowly over the fine mesh. “You look— _fuck_.”

Howon almost laughs, because it should be _him_ cursing, but his tongue is stuck to the roof his mouth, and nothing comes out when he tries to speak. Woohyun runs his tongue up the shaft, held tightly within the shorts, sucks the head between his lips and licks at the ridge underneath it. The delicate flower pattern of the lace stretches over Howon’s cock as it hardens, clinging to him like a second skin when Woohyun gets it wet with spit.

A light touch on his knee makes his breath catch. Woohyun slides that same hand up and between his legs. He wraps his lips around Howon’s cock, slick and hot, sucking it as far into his mouth as the shorts allow him, and cups Howon’s balls into his palm, reaching behind them to tease the little patch of skin there with the pads of his fingers. Howon bucks under him. Woohyun presses further forward to rub his fingertips over Howon’s hole, gentle but firm, the texture of the fabric adding an extra layer to the sensation. A moan tears its way out of Howon’s chest, shaky and rough.

“Turn around,” Woohyun says, pulling away all of a sudden, too abruptly for Howon to understand what he’s saying. “ _Turn_ , Howon-ah.”

Once he registers the words past the fog of want, Howon obeys without even thinking of asking _why_. Woohyun’s hands are lightning quick, tugging at him so Howon has to brace himself against the wall. He feels Woohyun kiss the small of his back, right over the top of his underwear; he grips Howon’s ass a split second later, nudging his thumbs under the hem of the shorts and splaying the rest of his fingers towards the sides. He spreads Howon’s cheeks and holds him open.

The lace pulls around Howon’s hips, tight enough to bite into his skin. Woohyun licks into him through the fabric with the flat of his tongue, dragging it over Howon’s hole in a seamless spiral. Howon’s toes curl. He thrusts up into nothing, then pushes back against the heat of Woohyun’s mouth. His cock aches, heavy and untouched, throbbing with every catch of Woohyun’s lips, every flick of his tongue.

It goes on for longer than he can keep track of—Woohyun eats him out until the need to come turns so huge Howon can taste the salt and copper of it at the back of his throat. When Woohyun finally lets go and makes him roll over again, Howon’s steps are as unsteady as a drunk’s. His head spins, his sense of balance knocked upside down. There’s sweat pooling between his collarbones, glistening down the plane of his stomach. The shorts are soaked through, dark and matted. The tip of his cock peeks out over the waistband. Woohyun is on him right away, sucking him off with none of the gentleness he had at the beginning. He doesn’t slow down, not even after Howon comes groaning his name; he licks Howon clean, then keeps lapping at him over the silk even though it’s too much, Howon’s breaths coming out as hiccuped whimpers by the time Woohyun eases off.

“Red is definitely your color,” he says, light and raspy, glancing up at Howon with dark, glassy eyes.

He’s a wreck, messy and flushed, and he’s smiling like he has no idea of how he looks right now. There’s lace burn on his face, his skin rubbed pink. His mouth shines with saliva, tender and swollen and—

Blood rushes in Howon’s ears. His legs give out and he sprawls on the floor, panting shallowly. He curls his fingers under Woohyun’s chin and tips it up, making him shiver when Howon’s thumb presses onto his puffy bottom lip. Howon tugs him closer, catching him by surprise, and swallows his laughter with a kiss.

 _Red is your color, too_. The thought dances in Howon’s mind like bubbles in water. He smiles, and kisses Woohyun again.


	6. touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> established relationship, woohyun accidentally being a tease (and then not so accidentally.)

Woohyun lets himself in Howon’s apartment at just shy of 3 am, toeing his shoes off at the entrance and placing them neatly next to Howon’s, already lined up at the side. All the lights are off; Woohyun’s about to head to the bedroom when his eyes get used to the dark and he sees the faint glow coming from underneath the door of the studio.

The sight that greets him there is a familiar one—Howon sitting in front of his laptop, one hand on the keyboard and the other tapping on the desk. He has his headphones on and his back turned to Woohyun, and doesn’t realize he isn’t alone anymore until Woohyun sneaks up behind him and squeezes his shoulders.

Howon jumps a bit, but smiles when he turns his head and sees Woohyun. His muscles are tight under Woohyun’s fingers—too tight, he thinks, feeling the tension knotted in Howon’s neck, along his spine. He rubs his thumbs harder there, moving them in small circles, in the hope that it will help to ease the strain a bit.

“What’re you working on?” he asks, leaning forward to get a better view of the screen. His chest brushes the back of Howon’s head.

“Something new,” Howon says. He takes the earphones off and leaves them on the desk, out of the way. The project that he has open looks recent, still short and sparse. Howon doesn’t share more details on it—he tends to keep his music to himself, at the very beginning, unless he isn’t composing alone. 

“You started it today?”

“A few hours ago.” Howon runs his hands down his face. There are dark shadows under his eyes. “It’s still—”

“Yeah, I know,” Woohyun says. He keeps rubbing Howon’s shoulders and neck—squeeze, release, squeeze. He digs his thumbs in when they find a particularly stiff spot, pressing them firmly against it.

Howon moans.

Woohyun eases the pressure, surprised. Howon’s reaction is much more obvious—he clasps his hands over his mouth and goes very still. His ears start to turn red.

“Oh,” Woohyun says, trying—and failing, mostly—to keep the amusement out of his voice. He starts massaging Howon’s back again, doing it more purposefully this time. Howon holds himself upright for a few seconds longer, then deflates at once, dropping his arms and going pliant under Woohyun’s fingers.

“That feels good,” he whispers after a moment. “I finished one of the sections of that song I mentioned last week,” he adds then, only a little hesitant. “For the first and second verses. D’you want to—”

“Yes.”

“—take a look at it? Oh. Great.” He leans his head back against Woohyun’s body.

Woohyun smiles. “I’m curious to hear how it sounds,” he says. “I’ve had the lyrics you showed me stuck in my head for days.”

“Really? It’s still rough but—ah—” Howon falters when Woohyun starts working his way up the sides of his neck. “I think it’ll work out,” he manages to finish. He swallows. “I can bring you a chair?” he asks hoarsely.

“Don’t worry about it,” Woohyun says. “This is fine.” He tightens one hand around Howon’s nape, making him shiver. “I’ll just stay right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the drabble that started this whole collection.)


	7. umbrella + chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> future-ish fic, outsider (dongwoo) pov, some instrospection.
> 
> (dongwoo and woohyun share an umbrella.)

A patter of rain falls around Dongwoo, sliding over the clear dome of the umbrella and down its sides. He shuffles to his left to press against Woohyun’s side and hold onto his waist. Woohyun’s shoulder is at the perfect height for Dongwoo to rest his chin on—so that’s exactly what he does, rearranging his feet so he doesn’t knock Woohyun’s arm down, sniffling and burying his face into the wool-lined collar of his own coat.

“Are you cold, Dongwoo-yah?”

“I didn’t know it was going to rain,” Dongwoo says. “My shoes are wet.”

He likes this kind of weather, but not so much when they are in the middle of a photoshoot outdoors and he has to wear expensive leather loafers instead of boots. The makeup makes his eyes itch; he stuffs his hands into the pockets of Woohyun’s jacket to keep himself from rubbing it away.

“We should go get some food after we’re done here,” Woohyun says. “Something spicy would be good.”

“You sound distracted.”

Woohyun doesn’t move, but Dongwoo can feel his ribcage expand-contract-expand in time with his breaths. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t settle down.”

“What if I buy you ice cream later?”

“You’re talking about ice cream while shivering like that? Only you.” Woohyun squeezes Dongwoo’s forearm. “Don’t worry about it,” he says kindly, because he knows how to read between the lines and doesn’t mind Dongwoo’s subject jumps. “I’ll sleep better today, I promise.”

They are in the middle of a park; the ground is slippery with damp leaves, and fall is a blanket of gold spread upon the city, dyeing the trees in every possible hue of yellow-orange-red-brown. Something crinkles under Dongwoo’s fingers; a mentholated cough drop, he discovers when he pulls his hand back. “Can I eat this?” he asks, waving it at Woohyun.

“Yes? Where did you get that from?”

“It was in your pocket, Nam-goon.”

“Oh.” The umbrella slants a little to one side when Woohyun half-turns into the circle of Dongwoo’s arms. “I forgot I had those.”

Dongwoo unwraps the candy and pops it into his mouth. The first hit of mint goes straight up his nose, making him sneeze. “I want to go to a norebang,” he says. “When’s the last time we all went out together?”

“Wasn’t it before Yeollie’s birthday?” Woohyun replies. “We should try to do something before yours.”

Dongwoo looks up at the gloomy sky. “Maybe next week?”

“Sometime soon, yeah. December will be busy.” Woohyun talks like he’s just stating facts, in a way that seems almost detached—almost, but not quite. 

“You aren’t distracted,” Dongwoo says, realizing his mistake. “You’re nervous.” 

It’s the good kind of nerves—he can tell that much at least, since Woohyun’s sharp, brittle smile from the last time things had been bad is nowhere to be seen today. Dongwoo is intrigued, though. He wonders if something has happened, or if it’s going to happen soon. Whatever it is, he doubts it has anything to do with their schedules, or even with the group itself.

“You’re a detective now?” Woohyun tilts his head. “Are you putting clues together as we speak?”

“Who’s a detective?” Howon’s voice says from their left. He was the first to go alone in front of the camera, and his swept-back hair has begun to loosen up by now, a few strands hanging over his forehead. He’s grinning as he approaches them, and a brown paper bag dangles from one of his hands.

“Nam-goon is teasing me,” Dongwoo answers, at the same time that Woohyun says, “Is that coffee?”

“What else could it be, Woohyun-ssi?”

“It might be a trap. A setup. A practical joke.”

“I think you’re mistaking me for _yourself_. Here, hyung—” Howon hands Dongwoo a tall cup “—this one is yours.”

“Thank you,” Dongwoo says, letting go of Woohyun to take it, then holding it between both of his palms.

“I’m not mistaking you for anyone, Hoya-ssi,” Woohyun insists.

“Should I go, then? I’m sure someone’ll be happy to get an extra drink.”

Woohyun beams—Dongwoo has seen him make his face too many times to count, the one where it feels like he can’t hold his joy back, to the point that he even stops caring of how he looks. “You got coffee for everybody?”

The tips of Howon’s ears turn pink. “So what if I did.”

“Did you hear, Dongwoo-yah? Aren’t we lucky to have such a caring dongsaeng?”

Howon smirks. “Aren’t _you_ being too much, Woohyun-ssi?” he asks sweetly.

If Dongwoo’s learnt something over the years it’s that there’s no use trying to get in the middle of their conversations; left to their own devices Woohyun and Howon could probably go on forever, forgetting about everything else, the push and pull of their banter not unlike the rise and fall of the tide. Still, Dongwoo reasons, someone needs to stay practical in a moment like this.

“The coffee will go cold,” he points out, looping his free arm through Woohyun’s again.

Woohyun stutters, caught halfway through a reply. “Right,” he says, lowering his voice.

“Yes, I—” Howon presses the last cup into Woohyun’s free hand. “I’m gonna—” He gestures towards where Sungjong and Sungyeol are standing.

“Thanks, Howon-ah,” Woohyun tells him.

Howon’s expression softens. “Enjoy it,” he says before walking away.

The rain has finally quieted down to a murmur, a drizzle of drops so fine that they seem to hang up in the air like mist. A sudden gust of wind makes Dongwoo long for something hearty and filling to eat—hot pot, maybe; something they can all sit around and share together. He opens his mouth to tell Woohyun as much, and then—

He stops.

Woohyun is glancing to the side, staring right at Howon’s back. Dongwoo knows this face, too; the wistful yearning, touched by fondness. It’s a face that hasn’t changed in almost ten years, though Woohyun has got better at not showing it around other people. Dongwoo’s family raised him to be frank with his feelings, but the others aren’t like him. Things are often left unsaid between all seven of them, until they bubble over and become too obvious to avoid. Then again, they’ve had to fit into different labels chosen by other people from the moment they debuted onwards—neat, little boxes that were often too narrow to be comfortable. Even something like _carefree_ , which Dongwoo would normally like, can easily careen into _oblivious_ or _uncaring_. He might be honest when putting his own thoughts and emotions into words, but it’s not the same when they belong to someone else.

Sometimes silence isn’t that bad.

Dongwoo finishes his last swallow of coffee instead of saying anything—about food, or about the way Woohyun and Howon look at each other. He tightens his hold on Woohyun’s arm, giving him a moment of quietness.

“You’re already done with yours?” Woohyun asks. He sounds a little embarrassed now, not that Dongwoo is going to mention it. “Didn’t it taste weird, after you ate that candy?”

“It was delicious,” he replies. Woohyun eyes his cup, still not bringing up to his mouth. “You really should drink yours while it’s still warm, Nam-goon. Do you really think it’s prank?”

“No. I know it’s not.”

The first sip puts a smile on his face right away—delight and surprise crinkling his nose and the corners of his eyes. Woohyun starts to laugh, ducking his head.

“It’s not coffee,” he says.

“What—?”

“It’s not a prank.” Woohyun takes a long gulp of it, lashes lowered, throat bobbing, a blush high on his cheeks. “But it’s not coffee either.” He exhales, looking pleased, and turns the cup towards Dongwoo. It smells like— “It’s hot cocoa.” 

Dongwoo could ask him why his drink is different from the others; it doesn’t really matter, though—what matters is that Woohyun is happy about it, giving out contentment in waves while he nurses his chocolate. The photoshoot is far from being over, and the rest of the day still looms ahead of them, but the mood is as bright as the colors in the late-October trees. Dongwoo leans back on Woohyun’s shoulder, and breathes in the scent of rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is curious about it, the reason Woohyun is nervous is because he and Howon have started making plans re moving in together.


	8. marking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> future fic, intimacy, domesticity, relationship feels.

“When are you driving to the airport?”

Howon tightens his hold around Woohyun’s waist and nuzzles into the space between his shoulder blades. “Sunho-hyung’s picking me up,” he replies. “He’ll be here in half an hour.”

“That’s sooner than I thought.”

“You know how traffic gets during rush hour.”

“You should check your luggage, then. Make sure you have everything you’ll need.”

“Are you kicking me out already?” Howon sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. His lips are careful and sweet on the nape Woohyun’s neck, though, nothing like the biting kisses he had peppered all over Woohyun’s skin earlier. 

Woohyun sighs. Any other time he would follow Howon’s lead and tease him back; today, however—

“You know I’m not,” he says. Howon was supposed to have the second half of July off, a small window of calm after their promotions ended and before the filming of his new drama started. It was the perfect time for Woohyun to finally move in with him, until Howon got the news from the producing team that his schedule had been brought forward. At least most of his things were already at the apartment by then, Woohyun thinks, closing his eyes when Howon’s mouth brushes the shell of his ear. Everything is still in boxes, though, taking a good chunk of the living room; he will have to sort it out while Howon is away.

They’ve been spooning since Howon came back from the shower, but Woohyun knows it can’t last for much longer. “I’ll text you when I get to the terminal,” Howon says as if on cue, drawing patterns on one of Woohyun’s forearms.

“You better.”

“I have to get dressed and go.”

“You’re kicking yourself out already?” Woohyun smiles to himself when that makes Howon chuckle. “I’ll walk you out,” he says.

He throws a hoodie over his shoulders, not even bothering to slip his arms through the sleeves, as Howon zips up his pants and puts on a charcoal sweater over his button-down shirt. They kiss by the door after saying their goodbyes, long and deep and slow, Woohyun’s hands cupped around Howon’s face. The flat seems too empty after the latch falls back into place and the sound of Howon’s suitcase rolling away dies down. Woohyun tugs the jacket tighter around himself, shivering in his underwear even though the weather is far from being cold. The sun hasn’t set yet, but he grabs his laptop and gets back in bed. He gets some work done, watches two episodes of a drama. Howon calls later, sounding travel worn over the line. Woohyun ends up falling asleep halfway through a pre-recorded soccer game, sliding down the headboard and lying on his side, turned towards the pillow Howon had used earlier.

The computer screen is dark and cold when Woohyun wakes up. He checks his messages, reading them groggily before getting up and walking to the bathroom. He blinks at his own reflection while he brushes his teeth and rinses his face, eyes heavy and slow, vision unfocused. A few droplets drip down his throat and chest. He wipes them off absently, not really paying attention to what he’s doing—not until he touches a spot that’s sore enough to make him hiss.

Woohyun peers into the mirror, raising his elbow a little—there’s a bite mark just below his left nipple, and another lower on his ribcage, a hand span away from the first. He twists around to take a good look at his back. There are more along his spine; the highest one sits at the crest of one vertebra, just low enough that it will be covered by the neckline of his shirts. His mouth curls up at the corners. He wonders how many more he’ll find in the next couple of days, left behind by Howon in places only he and Woohyun will know about, easily hidden under his clothes. They ache whenever he presses down lightly on them.

It’s something private, almost like a game at this point, or an inside joke—an inside _something_ , since they both take it too seriously to call it a joke. In any case, it has never been about other people seeing the bruises; Howon is always careful no matter what, as if he were tucking purple flowers between the pages of a book.

Woohyun pulls his boxers off and steps into the shower. He washes his hair, chasing the last dregs of drowsiness away with cool water. His skin is pink when he’s done, making the marks stand out more, small and dark, a little uneven around the edges. He goes back to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel.

His phone is blinking again, nestled between the folds of the blanket; Howon has texted again, letting Woohyun know that he is already on his way to the countryside to start filming outdoors.

 _have fun in the forest_ , Woohyun types back. A moment after replying he adds, _they’ll fade before you come back, you know_

Howon’s answer doesn’t arrive until hours later, after Woohyun has had lunch— _i did what i could_ , it says. _don’t worry. i’ll make it up to you when i get back home_

The coffee maker beeps. Sunlight spills into the kitchen, lapping at Woohyun’s shins and feet. He slouches against the counter, takes a first sip, milky and sweet, and smiles into his mug.


	9. distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> future fic, texting/phone conversations, relationship feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though this can be read as a collection of stand-alone ficlets, this story is a direct continuation of the previous one (chapter 8.) I hope you like it <3

HY (19:38): i’m at the boarding gate

HY (19:38): sorry i won’t be there to help you unpack and move in properly as we planned

HY (19:39): i got groceries yesterday so that’s one less thing for you to worry about

HY (19:39): you know where everything is already

HY (19:39): i’ll call you tonight and i’ll see you in three weeks

HY (19:45): also

HY (19:45): welcome home hyunnie

 

*

 

“Where’s your hair?”

“On top of my head? Hello to you, too.”

“I see your hair, but I mean your _hair_. Your long hair.”

“My long—? You mean the wig, don’t you.”

“Yes, Howon-ah.”

“I didn’t know I had to go through makeup and hair styling before video calling you.”

“I wanted to see if the wandering warrior look suited you.”

“Wait until the drama premieres.”

“I won’t get a sneak peek before?”

“Maybe.”

“Tomorrow?”

“ _Maybe_.”

“How did everything go?”

“It was—it didn’t go bad.”

“You don’t sound very convincing.”

“It’s only me in most of the scenes. There’re a few extras, but I don’t get to interact with them a lot. It’s easier to act when you have someone you can bounce your lines back and forth with.”

“It was the first day.”

“I know that. I know it, but—it’s like something about the character doesn’t fit right.”

“You worked really hard to get the role. I know you’ll figure it out. Maybe you should just wear the wig all the time. To stay in the right mindset, of course.”

“ _Of course_.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You’re never _just saying_ , Woohyunie. Come on. Leave my hair alone and tell me about your day.”

“Do you really wanna hear about how I had to rearrange a whole cupboard in the kitchen so my plates and stuff would fit in?”

“Tell me everything.”

 

*

 

WH (11:03): i’m sorting out my clothes

WH (11:03): somehow i’d never realized just how many socks you own

WH (11:03): you have a whole drawer full of socks

WH (11:03): what the hell

WH (11:04): i saw your laundry basket i know there are more socks in there

WH (11:04): plus the ones in your luggage

WH (11:04): why

WH (11:06): no one needs that many socks 

HY (14:13): i didn’t expect to come back from seven hours of filming to a rant about socks

WH (14:15): i’m going to spend the rest of my life folding socks :(

HY (14:18): lucky me

WH (14:20): yeah lucky you :)

 

*

 

HY (18:24): [photo]

HY (18:25): [photo]

HY (18:25): [photo]

HY (18:47): i had to swim in the lake at the bottom of that waterfall. it was so hot today but the water was clean and fresh. at the end i was just floating on my back and looking at the sky 

HY (18:48): it was very peaceful

HY (18:52): for the first time in a week i felt fully in sync with my character

 

*

 

WH (01:43): i decided on a setlist

WH (01:45): there’s still room for changes but i like how the songs i picked sound together

WH (01:45): i like how the lyrics fit together too

WH (01:59): i’m nervous

WH (01:59): i thought this would get easier after the first album but if anything i’m second-guessing myself more this time 

WH (02:00): but i think i finally got it right

HY (02:21): i’m sure you did

WH (02:22): you’re awake

HY (02:22): can’t sleep

WH (02:22): what’s wrong

HY (02:22): it’s quiet here

HY (02:22): too quiet

HY (02:23): i can only hear the wind rustling through the trees

HY (02:23): the rest of the crew’s staying at this place too but it feels like being completely alone

WH (02:24): i’m going to call you

WH (02:24): just give me a moment

“…”

“Hey, Howon-ah.”

“You didn’t have to call. It’s late.”

“I was awake too, so. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“You can talk about it.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Hmm. I’ll talk first, then. I had lunch with my brother in Gangnam—he wanted to try a restaurant that opened recently—then came back home and worked from here. Oh! The living room is done. I think I threw away the last empty box.”

“You’re settled in?”

“I’m settled in.”

“Woohyunie—”

“Yes?”

“I miss you.”

“You—”

“Remember when you said three weeks were almost a month and I said it wouldn’t be that bad? Well. You were right.”

“I’m—”

“Everything is getting to my head—the reschedule, this place, the isolation. We were shooting earlier and I couldn’t stop thinking of how I should’ve been in Seoul to hear you complain about my socks in person instead of reading about it. It’s—it’s not just that. I miss other things too, but. I was supposed to be there for that. You moved in with me. It was meant to be about us.”

“You were distracted while filming?”

“Distracted? No, I was—the writer praised me for portraying the character’s heartbreak exactly the way he’d imagined it.”

“No need to sound so embarrassed, Hoya-ssi. So you’re doing a great job. As always.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you. Hey, listen to me—”

“You just chuckled.”

“—you’re being professional despite being homesick. You’re making the most of your time there, and pouring everything you have into the character and the story. Just as I knew you’d do.”

“You can see the future now?”

“I just know you that well.”

“I guess you do.”

“And—Howonie?”

“Yes?”

“I miss you, too. So much. Some nights I wake up and I need a moment to remember where I am, even though I stayed over so many times before. It’s the first time I’ve been here by myself.”

“Do you regret it?”

“How could I?”

“Good.”

“D’you feel better?”

“I think I do.”

“Go to sleep, then.”

“Woohyunie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you keep talking for a little longer?”

“Of course I can.”

 

*

 

WH (08:02): you’ll see these after the plane lands so i hope you had a nice flight~

WH (08:03): [photo]

WH (08:03): i’m keeping the sunny spot on the bed ready for you

WH (08:04): [photo]

WH (08:04): and i’m going to make breakfast

HY (08:44): i’m driving home

HY (08:45): don’t start without me


	10. christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> future fic, domesticity, family feels.

The back pocket of Howon’s jeans buzzes while he’s slipping off his shoes. He juggles with his keys and his bag, trying to get to it. The thick, heavy coat he’s wearing gets on the way, but he manages to grab his phone, unlock the screen, and check his inbox.

 _i’m almost home, got stuck on traffic_ , Woohyun has sent, followed by several sad emojis.

 _just got here_ , Howon replies. _don’t rush_

Knowing that Woohyun is still on the road gives him enough time to change into sweats and an old shirt. He calls his mother as he’s taking his dirty clothes to the laundry room, letting her know he’s back in Seoul. He goes back to the bedroom, listening to her voice. The view of the city is breathtaking there. He stands by the window, looking at the buildings covered in snow, and the big, fat flakes falling relentlessly without so much as a whisper.

“We were glad to have you over,” she tells him.

“I was glad to be there,” Howon says. 

Of all the holidays they’ve spent together since he moved out—not that many, if Howon is being honest—today’s was as pleasant as he could have hoped for. He had still arrived at his parents’ house with a curl of nerves at the pit of his stomach, anticipation and apprehension blurring together until he couldn’t tell them apart, but he was able to relax as lunch went by, soothed by the obvious happiness on his mother’s face at having the whole family around the table. His father didn’t say much. His brothers squabbled with each other over nothing, much to the bemusement of his sister in law. But neither the silence nor the bickering were born out of anger or resentment; it was just a normal meal, with a few moments of awkward conversation and plenty of good homemade food.

“Dress warmly, Howon-ah,” she says. “I’ll remind Hojunie to email you the pictures we took today—”

“Yes, mom. You too.”

“—and I’ll send you a jar of sujeonggwa with Hojae in a few days.”

 _Woohyun will like that_ , Howon thinks. “Thank you,” he says. He hears a faint beep from the front door. “I’ll call again tomorrow.”

His mother laughs. “You don’t need to do that,” she says kindly. “Have some fun, too.”

“I’ll try,” he replies. The sound of footsteps gets closer; Woohyun peeks into the room a second later, still bundled up in his puffy parka. He waves at Howon. “Merry Christmas, mom.”

“Merry Christmas, Howonie,” she says before hanging up.

By the time Howon puts his phone down Woohyun has left his is suitcase by the dresser and is unwinding his scarf, his face pink from the cold.

“I’ve brought a present,” he announces, bending down to take something out of a shiny paper bag. He straightens up with a little twirl. “Ta-dah!” His smile is wide and impish. He’s holding a bottle of wine.

“Where did you get that?” Howon walks up to him. He puts his hands on Woohyun’s hips and leans forward, kissing him once, twice, three times in a row, soft and closed mouthed. “You had time to go shopping?”

“I took it from Boohyun-hyung’s place,” Woohyun confesses.

Howon flicks his forehead. “You can buy your own wine, Woohyun-ah. Did you tell him you were taking it, at least?

“I got him a nice present,” he replies, which means he probably didn’t. “It’s fine.”

“Shameless,” Howon says, kissing him again.

“That’s why you love me.” Woohyun raises the bottle again. “Don’t you want to try it?”

 _That’s why I love you_. It’s not a lie, but it hits Howon like a sucker punch. “Why don’t you get changed?” he suggests, hoping it doesn’t come out too strangled. “I’ll open the wine and look for your fancy glasses.”

“Living room?” Woohyun asks, already pulling off his sweater.

“Sure.”

There’s a string of star-shaped lights wrapped around their tiny tree. Howon plugs it in while he waits; they blink on and off, dancing on the wall and sparkling off the tinsel. He fluffs the throw pillows and pours some wine in each glass. Woohyun doesn’t take long to join him; he comes in, dressed in a hoodie and fuzzy pajama pants, and slides his hand up Howon’s back, resting it between his shoulders. “Looks good,” he says, grinning at the tree.

Howon sits down on the couch, expecting Woohyun to do the same. Instead, he sprawls across the seat, his back to Howon’s chest, and brings one glass up to his lips, making a tiny hum when he takes his first sip.

“Are you comfortable there?” Howon asks, amused.

Woohyun turns his head to the side. “Very,” he replies, pecking Howon’s cheek. “This is the first Christmas we’re spending together.”

After months of staying over regularly, Woohyun moved into Howon’s flat one clear day in the middle of summer. _The first Christmas we’re spending together_ means their first Christmas at their own place, without any pressing schedules for once.

The aftertaste of the wine sits on the back of Howon’s tongue—spices and black cherries, rich and heady. “We spent most of the day away, though,” he says, holding Woohyun tighter. 

“Still counts,” he insists.

“It does,” Howon agrees.

“You had a nice time with your family, right?”

“I did. I assume you did, too.”

“It was—” Woohyun stutters mid-sentence, tensing up in Howon’s arms. “Howon-ah,” he starts again haltingly. “I—I told my mom.”

“Your mom?” Of all the things that Howon can imagine Woohyun telling his mother, there aren’t many that would make him look so nervous now.

Woohyun leans forward. He carefully places his glass on the table, out of the way, and then twists around. He faces Howon, kneeling between his legs. “I told her I’d moved,” he says. “With someone.”

Suddenly it’s difficult to swallow. “Woohyunie.” Howon means to say something else, but he finds that he can’t.

“I know this was completely unplanned,” Woohyun rushes to continue. “I mean—I mentioned I wanted to bring up the subject soon, but I still should’ve warned you before doing it. I don’t know, it just felt like a good time? And—” his voice softens. “It was fine, Howon-ah. It—it’s fine.”

“Yeah?”

“She didn’t ask about the details, but she already suspected I was living somewhere else.” He smiles to himself. “She yelled at me for not telling her sooner.”

“She suspected?”

Woohyun shrugs. “Apparently the ambient noise here is different from the ambient noise at the other apartment?” he explains. “She could tell over the phone.”

“ _How_?” Howon stares at him, speechless. “That’s kind of—” _Terrifying_ , his brain supplies. “I can see who you take after.”

“Hah,” Woohyun snorts.

“And she was—?”

“It’s fine,” Woohyun repeats, firmer this time. “She—she was a bit taken aback, that’s all.” He reaches out and holds Howon’s hands. “I’m sorry for springing this on you,” he says. “I really am.”

“Nothing like surprising your loved ones during the holidays.”

“Right. Sorry,” Woohyun says, not quite meeting his eyes.

The tree lights start flickering again. Howon squeezes his fingers. “Hey,” he says. “I know you wanted to tell her—We talked about it, remember? I just didn’t expect it to happen today.” 

“Do you need a moment, or—?”

“Come here,” Howon says, tugging at him. “It’s our first Christmas together. I’m not going to spend it with you at the other end of the couch.”

“I’m right in front of you,” Woohyun protests; still, he curls up against Howon’s side.

“What do you think she’d say?” Howon asks, kissing his hair. “If she knew ‘someone’ was me?”

Woohyun doesn’t answer right away. “I don’t know for sure,” he finally says. “Sometimes I’m convinced she knows already—like how she knew about the move?—and is just waiting for me to tell her.” He turns his cheek onto Howon’s shoulder. “She really likes you, though.”

“She adores _you_. She likes me by extension.”

“She thinks you’re steady and reliable,” Woohyun whispers into the crook of his neck. “And I do, too.”

Howon breathes in; he exhales slowly. “You want more wine?”

“Please.”

They stay cuddled up in the living room, savoring the rest of the bottle, not talking much. With their jobs being what they are, Howon would take an evening like this over any kind of big celebration. He hopes today is just the first of many Christmas to come.

“Can you imagine getting the whole family together, though?” Woohyun wonders drowsily after a while, almost as if he’s thinking aloud. “Mine and yours?”

The thought should be intimidating—and it _is_ —but Howon still chuckles while picturing it. “Why don’t you ask me again next year?”

“Deal,” Woohyun says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a huge thank you to the people who (metaphorically) held my hand while I was working on this, and patiently and enthusiastically encouraged my rambling every time I figured out what to do with each one of the prompts. 
> 
> Thank you too to everyone who has read/kudoed/commented so far. Life hasn’t been that awesome lately, but writing these stories was a delight--I can only hope you have as much fun with them as I did ❤


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